Monday, March 09, 2009

Our six-legged friends

Richard Gere feels guilty about slaughtering thousands of cockroaches in New York City. As a practising Buddhist, he is ashamed that he failed to “respect the life of an insect”, as the Dalai Lama has decreed. Perhaps his conscience would be lighter if he’d eaten the bugs rather than leaving their squashed carcasses for the crows to peck. Insects, of course, must be devoured. In their heart of hearts they know this themselves. Unable to practice birth control, they would otherwise multiply into gigantic swarms before feeding on each other. The kindest thing one can do is give them a merciful death by biting their heads off.

As a gorilla, I have eaten tens of thousands of insects. Does that make me a “bad Buddhist”, as Mr Gere seems to think? My hairy arse it does. I have never felt the slightest animosity towards any of the bugs I’ve snacked on. As they were valiant, I honour them; but as they were nutritious, I slew them. For every thousand I consumed, another million were hatched from their eggs. Mr Gere has confused respecting a life form with allowing it to procreate into a plague of biblical proportions. He should study the scriptures more carefully before advancing his pious opinions. I’m not going to take lessons in Karma from the man who exposed his todger in American Gigolo.

Bill Gates is an altogether more enlightened man. He has none of Mr Gere's mawkish concern for insects, having devoted a considerable portion of his fortune to the eradication of the mosquito. Rachel Noy, the brainy Essex girl, has been following the tycoon’s philanthropic work with interest. Apparently, he released a bottle of the little buzzers at a conference to make a point. It was a brilliantly conceived stunt. People understand the importance of pest control much better when their bodies are covered with itchy spots. Is it any wonder that red-hot chicks like Rachel find the activities of Mr Gates infinitely more compelling than the sentimental musings of a narcissistic actor?

Let the record show that Gorillas Bananas is no wanton destroyer of creepy crawlies. Only last week, I humanely disposed of a spider at the safari guesthouse. I was about to retire for the night after my shift at the bar, when a woman in a dressing gown emerged from her room.

“Hey, Mr Bananas, there’s a spider in my bathroom!” she cried. “The horrible thing is making a web on the ceiling. Get rid of it for me, will ya!”

She was a middle-aged American lady with a similar voice to the actress Elaine Stritch.

“Can’t it wait until morning?” I said yawning. “If you close the bathroom door I promise it won’t sneak into your bedroom.”

“No it can’t wait!” she cried. “I want to have a shower before I go to bed and I’m not getting naked in front of that big hairy thing!”

“You're afraid it might get ideas and try to mate with your big toe?” I asked wryly.

“Hey smartass, I’m a guest here!” she barked. “You’re supposed to be helpful!”

“Lead me to the unwanted intruder,” I said with a sigh. There was no point reasoning with a woman in that sort of mood.

When we entered the bathroom, I observed that her statement regarding the spider’s position had been accurate. However, the long arms and quick hands of a gorilla possessed full spectrum dominance in this enclosed battle-space. I scooped the miniature monster into a nearby bucket, which I then continuously jiggled to stop it from scaling the pail. With the woman’s fulsome praise ringing in my ears, I emptied the contents of the bucket out of the bathroom window. Defenestration does not injure arthropods, and I assume it wandered away into the African night.

“I thought you’d just stomp on it,” said the grateful guest. “Isn’t that what you gorillas do?”

“Madam, you misjudge us,” I replied. “Stomping on arachnids is not in our nature, even inasmuch as the evildoers in their ranks would deserve such an ignoble fate.”

I bowed and left for my room.

So you see, the gorilla philosophy is live and let live: we are merciful in bathroom warfare and kill not except in judgment. And hunger, obviously.

I apologise to my lady readers for this picture, but some horrorsmust be shared rather than kept to oneself.

I wish you *had* kept that last little horror to yourself, Mr. B. I have just been regaled with Australian arachnid anecdotes along similar storylines, and the picture makes them goosebumpingly graphic in my mind.

Still, a good job on pointing out the spiritual silliness of a hair-brained man. Gere would benefit greatly from your understanding of his scriptures. Perhaps you should place a call to him next.

How do you think the Dalai Lama feels about head lice? Because I've tried tempting them off my kids' heads with offers of salvation, 72 virgins and what not and they're just not biting. Well, they are. But they're biting the kids.Should I refer their school to Buddhism as the reason I have not de-loused the children?

I recently posted about keeping a 'pet' spider in my kitchen. It was when the snow came to the UK in early February, and I felt it would be cruel to put the beast outside in the freezing temperatures. Unfortunately last week I came home to find that my cat had met my pet spider. Now I have one less pet. The cat, on the other hand, was very proud of herself. x

Well done, GB. The spider is our friend. It eats up all the nasties, such as flies and what not. I for one hope that last picture is not the result of photo-tomfoolery. One should never knock a photo of a breast

Emerson: It's a genuine breast which has learned to appreciate a silky touch. Perhaps the spider is really Woman's best friend.

Rachel: Not squeamish about spiders, Rach? Playing all those violent computer games must have toughened you up! Thanks for mentioning me in the same breath as Charles Darwin, the great father of primate brotherhood.

Kate: Are you suggesting Dita would eat them, Kate? Maybe she's even madder than she looks.

Polly: It might injure itself on a pointed bra, Polly. It actually looks quite scared of that nipple.

Nothingman: Thank you, my friend. If you're bursting with too much love, I suggest you do a few good deeds to relieve the pressure.

Mrs Cake: I didn't crop that picture, but I would have done if his crown jewels had been on display. The peacock's tail is overrated, but the peacock's cock is just another cock. Aren't you curious about what it feels like to be stroked by a spider?

I am a vegetarian but not a buddhist. Gere and the Dalai Lama are buddhist but not vegetarians. I wouldn't worry too much about their opinion. The Dalai is very fond of chicken, eating it, that is. ~Mary

Great, now I have to get a spider proof bra! I have watched those survivor man type shows, where they show how eating grubs and other bugs can save your life. I always think the same thing. I guess I am going to die.

killing bugs never bothered me...walked into a house once, sat down and had a cockroach crawl up my sleeve...he had to die...and i learned to sit only on wood chairs in homes i didn't know...my foster son was deathly (and i mean deathly) afraid of spiders so whenever he went running through the house screaming i went in the other direction to kill whatever was crawling...it's a part of life...and death...

I always wonder how the people who bray about the sanctity of all life justify killing the parasites that cause schistosomiasis, say, or malaria. And yet those creatures are animals too, just like cockroaches.

Good for you for not stomping on spiders, though. Spiders eat cockroaches. They're welcome to camp out in my bathroom whenever they like.

I figure it this way: since some scientists claim that cockroaches will still be around when humans are extinct (I don't know about apes) killing a few thousand or million or billion probably won't hurt a damned thing.

I'm glad you came to see me so that I returned the visit. Great blog. I'm with you on your view of Richard Gere (albeit he does much good). My view as a Buddhist is that if it's trying to suck my blood (also applies to vampires) or kill me - I will kill it, but without joy. I too eat meat, like HIs Holiness, as I get anemia without it.